


Cartographies of Silence

by replicasex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Episode: s10e12 About A Boy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replicasex/pseuds/replicasex
Summary: Dean burns the witch's hex bag and remains a teenager.





	Cartographies of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> A poem can begin  
> with a lie. And be torn up.
> 
> A conversation has other laws  
> recharges itself with its own
> 
> false energy. Cannot be torn  
> up. Infiltrates our blood. Repeats itself.
> 
> Inscribes with its unreturning stylus  
> the isolation it denies.
> 
> -Adrienne Rich

The witch falls into the oven before he even realizes what he’s done. The witch, the hex bag – they all burn.

*

Later, when they say goodbye to Tina, he feels awkward in his own skin. He feels distant from his body, the edges of himself rubbing against his elbows and knees. He’s scrawnier than he remembers being at this age and he blushes terribly when Tina kisses his cheek. Sam drives the impala.

*

“It’s magic,” Sam says as they’re driving towards the bunker. It’s raining and flat and Sam’s been freaked since they clambered back into the car.

“Yeah,” Dean says, sarcastic. He knows he’s being surly but he can’t seem to help it. He’s happy, he reminds himself, and he stares at his bare arm while Sam shifts in his seat.

“I meant we could probably figure a way to undo it,” Sam says. His tone’s patient but Dean knows the geometry of Sam’s anger. He used to think he’d never understand it; now he regrets that they understand each other so well.

“I don’t want to.” Dean says, trying to keep irritation out of his own voice. It’s nobody’s fault, he knows. “It’s not your fault, or your problem to fix. I’m happy this way.” Dean feels amped in a way he assumes most 14 year olds are. With the memories he has, it all just seems exhausting.

“Happy.” Sam repeats. “Dean, I don’t think you’d know happy if it punched you in the gut.” Sam’s eyes are on the road. Dean knows he’s won this round.

*

Sam loses himself in the bunker’s library as soon as they get back. Dean makes himself a sandwich, a glass of milk, and then tries to go to sleep. He jerks off twice before it takes.

When he wakes up, Sam’s still reading. Grimoires and leather bound volumes about hoodoo surround him.

“Dude,” And Dean hates that, hates the way his voice breaks, crashing end over end. “I told you, it’s fine.” Dean pokes him in the shoulders. Sam swats at his hand. Dean sits down beside him, looks him in the eye. “Bitch,” Dean says, his voice steady. Hoping for the best.

Sam’s face does something complicated, shifting from outrage to sadness to humor. He looks older, now that Dean thinks about it. Lines on his face. Sam smiles and closes the book he was reading.

“Bieber clone,” Sam smirks. And that’s that.

*

They have to buy new clothes, but not as much as Dean feared. This Dean is whip thin and bony but he’s not much shorter. His shirts are loose around the arms and chest and his thighs are thin in his jeans. He makes do.

They make new I.D.’s and forged histories. Sam orders homeschool materials, clutters his room with them.

Hunting is different. Dean hunted with his father by 14 so he remembers a few of the tricks, some of the poses they can play with father and son. But it’s harder. He can’t interview vics, can’t play as law enforcement at all.

He sees less of Sam on hunts than ever before. But it has its upsides. A lot of the things they hunt go after kids and 14 seems a lot more trustworthy than 30 to some.

*

Maybe he’s never noticed, but women seem a lot more perverted than he remembers. He catches women, and a few men, check him out when he enters a room. He was always proud of turning heads before but now it makes him queasy.

Four, five, ten years, it’s nothing, not in the grand scheme they’ve been living in, but damn if it doesn’t seem like forever.

 

 


End file.
